


Sleep

by Dankee



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dankee/pseuds/Dankee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian has chronic nightmares and a stupid crush on his best friend. {Highschool Ianthony}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01//Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii everyone, not my first smosh fic but definitely my first Ianthony. I made a smosh fic with an OC like... in 2010, but it was lame. I got bored of it and I didn't really discover gay fanfics until My Chem with Frerard. So, yaaaa. 
> 
> I got my information on nightmares and nightmare disorders from --> http://www.minddisorders.com/Kau-Nu/Nightmare-disorder.html and my own experience/knowledge of counselling I've had.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! x
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: Edited again. -.- (03/08/15)

Ever since Ian was little, he's had these nightmares. These fucking awful nightmares, ranging from everyone he loved being mutilated and tortured or himself being buried alive or killed. Sometimes, he even had dreams about Anthony, his favorite person in the whole wide world, turning his back on Ian, betraying him or laughing at him. He would always wake in a sweated and after a moment of trying to remember his dream, shocked at what his mind made up. He would have to hold back a sob some nights.

His mom knew he had nightmares so if he had one, he was welcomed to crawl his little five year old body (or sixteen year old body) into her bed or wake her up and have his mom sleep in his bed. It always made him feel better.

When it got the point where seven year old Ian refused to ever go to sleep and his mother couldn't handle being awake anymore, they decided the best thing to do was to take Ian to counselling. He was recommended to a psychologist by his doctor and he couldn't have been more scared. His childish mind imagined the big word professional was scary and dark, old and something straight out of his nightmares. But he couldn't be more wrong. When he walked into the psychologist's office on his first day, he was greeted with a gracious-looking woman with rosy cheeks and eyes that squinted up when she smiled. "You must be Ian! Hi, I'm Vivian." Is all she had to say and Ian let out a sigh of relief.

Over the course of a couple of weeks, she had told his mother (and him, when he listened in on the adults speaking when they thought he was playing with cars) that Ian had PTSD. His mother didn't seemed surprised, just melancholy. She explained that the physical abuse from her ex husband (and Ian's dad) was traumatizing to him when he was smaller and that's the most likely reason for these nightmares. Also, that Ian had nightmare disorder- or dream anxiety disorder- spawning from the PTSD. Vivian said they should continue counselling.

So, now Ian has been seeing Vivian off and on for around ten years and they have reduced his nightmares down to one or two a week. Vivian had said this was phenomenal and that he was the brightest patient he has ever had the pleasure of working with. Ian couldn't help but blush and feel proud of his accomplishments. His mother congratulated him with McDonald's and allowing Anthony to come over the for the weekend, which was all the reward he wanted.

Anthony was his best friend. They had met when he was six and still having nightmares every night. When little Ian would go spend the night at Anthony's house, sometimes he would wake up crying and crawl into Anthony's bed. The other seventeen year old didn't seem to mind and actually might have enjoyed staying up all night with his best friend. When he started counselling, Ian explained to the best of his seven year old abilities and Anthony kind of understand, didn't judge and asked him if he wanted to play video games after school. As they were growing up, Ian would still crawl into Anthony's bed and ask him to sleep next to Ian. It was embarrassing but Anthony brushed it off because his best friend needed him. Now seventeen, they were closer than ever and okay, maybe Ian had a crush on him.

He hadn't realized until Ian couldn't stop staring at him a year before. Anthony was talking about something that he was really passionate about, spending a good ten minutes on the subject. If Ian had said he heard any of it, that would be a complete lie. Not because he was ignoring his best friend, but because he was staring at him. He was entranced in the way Anthony's lips moved as he spoke or how beautiful his eyes were. He stared at his whole face. His best friend had grown up really hot, like extremely fucking attractive. When Anthony stop talking, waiting for a response from Ian, he just stammered with a red face and agreed with him.

Okay so maybe it wasn't just the one time and maybe it was just a crush. Ian has always known he loved Anthony but it's a different kind of a love. A love where he could kiss this boy all over his face. Ian really fucking wanted to kiss him, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't live with the rejection.

"Are you gonna call Anthony?" Ian's mom pops her head in the frame into Ian's room. Ian looks up from the homework he was half-assing. He didn't understand calculus anyways.

"Oh, yeah." Ian chimes, smiles a bit. His mom walks in with a funny look on her face. The seventeen year old whips out his phone and dials the number. He looks at his mom when he puts his phone to his ear.

"What?" He questions his mother, waiting for Anthony to pick up.

"When are you gonna tell him?" She whispers.

"Tell him what?" Ian asks back, irritated because he knew exactly what they were talking about.

"You know what I'm talking about." She smirks.

Ian groans. "Ugh, mom! I don't like him, okay?"

" _Hello?_ "

Ian feels his face go bright red and his mom must have heard the echo of Anthony's voice because she hurried out of the room with a chuckle. Sorta like a 'you can deal with that' move.

"Hey, Anthony! It's Ian." He says a bit too enthusiastically. Then he sighs to himself, realizing how much of an idiot he sounded like and facepalms.

Anthony laughs. " _I know man, I have caller ID._ " Another facepalm. " _Even if I didn't, I could've recognized your voice._ "

Ian laughs. "Duh."

" _So what's up?_ " Anthony asks, voice sounded distracted. He was probably playing Mario Kart or something.

"Do you wanna stay the weekend? You can bring over some video games and we can eat junk food the whole time. Friday to Monday? We'll drive you to school." Ian offers and Anthony takes a couple of moments to answer.

" _No, I hate you asshole. Definitely do not want to spend the weekend with my best friend and dick around. Sounds awful._ " Anthony monotones, but it's rough like he's holding back snickers.

Ian laughs. "It's a plan then. I'll see you tomorrow, dickwad."

Anthony chuckles as well. " _'Till tomorrow, slutbag._ "

With that, Ian hangs up. He holds the phone to his chest all girly like and sighs. Maybe he would tell him, this weekend would be the perfect time. But at the same time, he didn't want to get his heart broken in the middle of a junk and video game feast.

He just says, tossing his phone to the side and closing his homework.


	2. 02//Anthony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that rain in California? Very, very unlikely. But I am Canadian, and I fucking love rain. And this is my story, and Ian and Anthony are gonna fucking love it too. (And apparently the people of Cali cos it's raining there now.)

"You still coming over tonight?" Ian asks as Anthony grabs his bag from his locker. It was the end of the day and Ian had found is best friend at his locker. The seventeen year old was so excited, he had to resist the urge to bounce of the balls of his feet.

"Yeah, but I gotta pack my stuff. Wanna come by my house first so I can grab my stuff and you can pick out a video game or something?" Anthony suggests, slinging his bag onto his shoulders and closing his locker. 

Ian bites his lips so his smile can't grow too large. "Sure, I have to walk home today anyways."

Anthony smirks at Ian as they walk out the school building. "Anything to bum a ride, right?"

Ian feels goose bumps scatter over his arms, as it was getting closer and closer to Christmas. If anyone asked, that's what he would blame it on but it was partially because of the way Anthony looked at him, the way he smirked at him, the way he acted around him. Jesus Christ, it was killing him.

"You cold?" Anthony asks, looking Ian up and down, eyes landing on the short sleeve shirt he was wearing. Ian shrugs.

"Meh, a little." Ian brushes off. "It's such bullshit when people say California is always hot and sunny." He comments on the dark atmosphere. The sun was hidden behind some rain clouds and the sky was full of swirling grey. Wind curled around his bare arms, prickling Ian's skin. 

Anthony laughs. "That's true." They walk up to Anthony's car, which was half broken down, silver with scratches 2004 Honda Civic his parents bought for five grand on some website. It's was a literal safety hazard. Ian liked to call it _the death mobile_ until Anthony would slap him up side the head. "And I got a sweater in the back, uh, if you need one."

Butterflies burst for their cocoon and flutter around in Ian's tummy as he prays his face isn't too red. "Uh, okay."

When Anthony unlocks his car, it makes an obscene sound and clicking noise, which is when Ian grabs the handle and pulls the door open (he makes sure not to grab too hard, in fear that the passenger door may fly off). He plops down into the fabric seats and ignores the weird (coffee) stain on the passenger seat. Ian had to do a lot of apologizing for that one.

Anthony slides into the driver's seat and closes the door, turning around to grab the black sweater balled up in the back seats. He throws it in Ian's direction and starts the car. When the dash lights up, music blasts out on full volume. Ian jumps a bit and Anthony lets out a yelp, leaping forward to spin the volume dial down to zero. The seventeen year old gives an apologetic grin.

Ian just shrugs again, picking the black fabric up from his lap. "I liked that song, so it was like a mini concert." Ian says, laced with playful snark. He doesn't make eye contact, only lifting up the shirt with his fingers and gazing over the gold and white brass knuckles pattern, but he hears Anthony crack up in the other seat.

"Dude, I'm gonna crash, don't do that to me." Anthony gets the last of his chuckles out as he pulls out of the school parking lot. Ian smirks as he undoes his seat belt to put on the sweater, catching a whiff of the lingering cologne on the clothing. Once it's on, he redoes his seat belt and snuggles into the seat.

He feels a tidal wave of fatigue come over now he was off his seat and relaxing to the hush sound of rain starting to fall. He struggled to keep his eye lids open, not wanting to doze off in Anthony's car. He would just try to go to bed earlier tonight or drink a little bit more coffee, which means no sleep, so no nightmares. He's been living on that stuff lately. 

"Man, I'm exhausted." Ian sighs, wiping his eyes. Anthony's sight leaves the road and flicks over the tired boy. After a second or two of gazing, he turns his attention back to the road.

"Is it the dreams again?" Anthony sounds concerned. Ian nods even though the seventeen year old is not longer looking at him, but Anthony already knew the answer before he asked. "What is it this time?"

"Last week was a fire-breathing dragon that looked like my father, which is odd because I haven't had that since I was a kid." He exhales, stretching out his sore limbs. He squints as he feels a satisfying stretch in his back. He's so used to communicating his dreams and his memories to Vivian, and since he was so close to Anthony, he didn't mind telling his best friend about the worst of the worst. "The past two nights have been about you."

"Me?" Anthony asks, surprised by the information. Ian didn't usually tell Anthony the extremities of his nightmares but the previous night wasn't that bad. 

Ian speaks of this as if it doesn't leave him screaming and crying in the middle of the night. "Yeah, I think I was chained to a stone wall with shackles and you were being tortured." 

Anthony takes a minute to answer, a minute Ian spends opening up his sidekick and praying the almighty God that he didn't freak the driver out. Ian's in the middle of sending a text his his friend Joshua and a nervous sweat when Anthony pulls into the driveway of his house. The seventeen year old sits in his seat for a moment before turning off the engine and looking at Ian. Ian lifts an eyebrow.

"That's intense, I'm sorry you have to deal with that, like, all the time." Anthony says, looking at Ian sadly. Ian feels his heart practically explode in his chest.

"S-s'okay." Ian gives a smile. Anthony smiles back and directs himself out of the car. Ian follows.

Anthony walks up the stoney pathway, hoping onto the porch, to the entrance. Ian scurries to catch up to his friend and waits patiently behind Anthony until he uses a key to open the door. They both walk in silently. When inside, Ian is faced with the familiar scenery of furniture and decorations and the well known smell of Anthony's mother cooking dinner. 

Anthony toes off his Vans and slides on his socks through the hardwood hallways. Ian loses sight of him when he slips past the corner and into where Ian knew was the kitchen. He hears a bang while taking off his shoes and a scream of: "Anthony Daniel, don't do that! You're going to hurt yourself!" 

Once his shoes are off, he crept through the same hallway and turned the corner into the kitchen. He was met with Anthony on the floor, laughing hysterically as Mrs. Padilla scolded her son while tending to the salad she was tossing. Ian and her lock eyes and her face breaks in half with a huge smile.

Mrs. Padilla was an older, half Filipino lady, always dressed in scrubs. Half of her day, she worked at the nearest hospital as a nurse and the other half she loved on call. Her greying hair was usually up in a loose bun whenever Ian would see her. She was always smiling as well, a grin so genuine that wrinkles formed around her eyes and cheeks. She is the kindest woman Ian has ever had the pleasure of meeting. 

"Ian! How are you, dear?" She asks, cheer in her voice. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

Anthony grabs the side of the dinner table to support his weight and help himself up. He gives his mom a weird look. "He was here, like, a week and a half ago." She silences her son with a wave of her hand. He gives an eye roll, but there's a smile on his lips.

"Yeah, it's been practically forever, I gotta come around more often." Ian answers, drinking in the comfortable atmosphere. He places himself down in a chair and smiles up at his best friend, who was raiding the pantry and pulling out a cookie. He stuffs it in a his mouth and his mother's gaze is hard on him. But she pulls her attention away from her son and look sympathetically at the other seventeen year old.

"So, you guys staying for dinner?" She asks the both of them. "I'm making meatloaf!"

Anthony makes a face as he chews his cookie, thankfully out of his mother's view. He puts on a tolerable expression and explains to his mother, "Tempting, but I'm heading out of Ian's house. We're just picking up some games and my clothes and stuff."

Ian smiles and jumps up to Anthony's side when he walks by. "Yeah, thanks for the offer though." 

"It's no problem, boys. Anthony's father is having some friends over anyways so it's gonna be rowdy. I've never seen people play poker the way these middle age men play it." She laughs loudly after her last word, and the brunet smiles politely. Anthony just wrinkles his nose and grabs Ian's arm, pulling him towards the stairs. 

"Yeah, mom, that'll keep you entertained. We're gonna get packed." He bids her as he stomps up the stairs with Ian in tow. Ian just waves to Mrs. Padilla as a goodbye and she snickers into her hand. 

When Ian turns away from Anthony's mother, he pulls his arm hard, causing it to slide smoothly into Anthony's. He lets the butterflies take over his body, causing him to buzz with excitement; tingle as his limbs fell numb. 

When Anthony realizes they're holding hands, he looks down at the clasp with amusement and tugs him harder, running to the top of the stairs.


	3. 03//Everything's on the table

When Ian and Anthony get to the top of the stairs, his best friend seems to drop his hand like it was burning him. Ian tried not to let it bother him, since Anthony didn't mean to hold his hand in the first place, and just walks a little behind him. 

Anthony pushes the door open with his knuckles, swinging it open easily. Once in the room, Anthony beckons Ian to hurry through the doorway. The boy's face scrunches up, confused about why his best friend was waving him over. Ian picks up his feet and scurries through the door.

After Ian enters the room, Anthony closes the door with a silent push and holds himself against it like he was protecting whatever was inside the four walls. Ian rises an eyebrow when he looks over his shoulder and plops himself down on Anthony's messy bed. The whole bedroom was unorganized as well, clothes littering the floor and CDs and Video Games stacked in random places (at least they were in their cases). Come to think of, Ian's never seen his room _not_ messy. The seventeen year old's mother had always been hard on Ian about his room being clean and his laundry folded and binders organized.

"I got something cool. I was thinking about trying it out this weekend." Anthony grins, his voice pregnant with glee, but hushed. He practically skips over to a loose ceiling board. He drags over his computer chair, which was in his reach. He hops on to it, wobbling slightly, and pushing the ceiling inwards. He pulls something out- something ceramic- and jumps down, but not before covering the gap. "Look at this!"

When he holds it out, Ian feels his stomach twist into a knot. The bong had a long spout and metallic blue, and probably made of glass. He carried it with care, fingers gingerly around it and one palm on the base. His face was bright and grinning, eyes wrinkled in the corners. 

Ian knew Anthony baked once in a while, basically whenever his mom was doing an all hours shift at the hospital, or at parties. Anthony never really offered, or did it in front of Ian. He would sometimes be high when he came around Ian's house or when on the phone while playing on his Xbox. Ian always knew when he was because his voice would slur and his laugh would become a giggle. It was super cute, adorable even, and Ian had to restrain himself every time.

Ian couldn't smoke. 

_"No weed, no alcohol!" Vivian had stated with such passion. Ian cocked his eyebrow at the frantic counselor._

_"Why not?" Asks Ian. The then fifteen year old never asked about drugs, but maybe since he was getting older she just wanted him to be caution to dangers that my be floating around. Or maybe, the more possible answer, his own mother put Vivian up to this since the previous night Anthony came over obviously stoned._

_"Because, weed makes dreams more vivid. And alcohol may help for a little while, but when you become sober again, it may cause your anxiety to rise." She explains, crossing her leg over the other in the chair._

_Ian's eyebrow is still up in confusion, but his face changed to one of annoyance. He rolls his eyes. "Sure."_

_"I'm serious! I'm not just saying that because I don't want you to do it." She defends herself. "Do it if you want, but don't come crying to me when you have the messed up dreams!"_

Ian went home that night and did some research, realizing Vivan was being serious. Ever since then, the seventeen year old hadn't touched alcohol or pot and denied any handouts from their other friends. Ian frowns at Anthony's smiling face.

"I can't." The brunet looks down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. When he looks back at his best friend, Anthony looks like he was trying to cover disappointment with a mask of curiosity. 

"Why not?" He asks, gripping the cylindrical tube and lowering it. "We don't have to do it at your house, if your mom will give you shit."

Ian shrugs. "That's not it. Vivian said I can't smoke pot 'cause it'll give me more vivid dreams. So, like, worse nightmares."

Anthony sits next to Ian on the bed. "Oh." Is all he says at first. He probably felt bad for offering and being so excited about it. Ian didn't want him to feel that way. "We- er, I don't have to do it."

"No! No, I don't want you have to be sober because I can't." Ian exclaims, then fixes his time a bit. He smiles at Anthony, and Anthony gives a half smirk back. 

"It's cool," He shrugs. "I don't want to be baked alone." 

Ian thinks for a second. He could get high and deal with the dreams. If that's what Anthony wants to do, then he could handle it. He thinks? It couldn't be worse than his normal dreams. "I could, if you wanted me to."

Anthony looks at Ian confused. "No, man, I won't let you do that."

"But-"

"No, it doesn't even matter." Anthony interrupts, almost stern. "I don't want you to go through hell to get high with me."

Ian just nods as Anthony gets up and jumps back on the chair, placing the bong back in its cozy habitat. He puts the ceiling tile back in its place and leaps down, sliding the chair back under the desk. He walks over to his closet, opening it up and watching like it was nothing as old clothes and toys from his childhood flow out like a tidal wave. Ian muffled a giggle into his hand, assuming Anthony had to do this all the time. 

"What should I bring?" The taller boy asks, looking over his shoulder at Ian. The brunet shrugs.

"Uh, two pairs of clothes, school clothes, pajamas- if you're actually gonna get changed for bed- and whatever the fuck else you want." Ian replies, getting up to go look through the pile of games on the other side of his room. Out of the corner of his eye, Ian sees Anthony shrug as well and start to strip. 

Fuck, okay, Ian whips his head around to keep his eyes focused on the games in front of him. The delicious thoughts started to arise (and he hoped something in his pants didn't _arise_ ) and the temptation of naked Anthony within a couple of steps from him was too great and Ian had to grip the side of the desk with basically all his might.

He could totally go over there right now, swing his best friend around, lace his fingers through his hair and kiss him... And ruin their friendship forever and never speak to Anthony again because he'll think Ian's a weird homo. (Not that Anthony is homophobic... But the fact he doesn't know Ian is gay and has a huge crush on him may be a bit strange).

Come to think of it... He could just mention the one part. He doesn't know why he's never told Anthony that he's gay, maybe fear, rejection? Ian didn't really feel like the seventeen year old would care much. Like what the hell? There's always plan B; play if off like it's a joke. If that doesn't go well then there's always plan C; move to Norway.

"Ant," Ian lets go of the table and turns his body around to be facing Anthony. "I'm gay."

When Ian looks at what's in front of him, maybe now wasn't the best time. A very confused, very shirtless Anthony stood there with baggy sweatpants riding low enough to the dark shading of his happy trail. His defined abs were out and very, very sexy and it kind of made Ian wanna jump out the window behind him.

"Huh?" Was all Anthony responded and Ian gulped. 

"Uh, not because of you! Not because you were shirtless! I just am- I'm gay." Ian seems to explain all in one breath. His eyes must've been comically wide and round and his hands were shaking. Anthony blinked. Fuck. "Just, bad timing."

It takes a couple of seconds for Anthony to crack a smile, a meek one. "Oh, okay." Ian gulps.

"You're okay with it, right?" He asks hesitantly as Anthony turns his back to him to pick up a loose black shirt. He throws it on, shrugs his shoulders to get it into place and picks up a bag to start packing. He glances at Ian quickly.

"Yeah, of course, man." He comments, looking at him. Anthony relocates his eyes to shove a handful of clothes into a duffle bag. "You're my best friend. Always will be." Anthony says it strangely, like he was indifferent. Ian guesses indifferent is better than pissed or whatever, but it was like he was concealing his emotions, hiding how he actually felt. Ian doesn't let it ruin he excitement of Anthony actually knowing. Next, his mom. (OKAY, he knows he should've told his mom first but Anthony was there when he made the decision to actually tell someone. He sucked, okay? He knows it).

"Great, okay." Ian smiles as Anthony packs up the last of his stuff and Ian just picks up a random video game. He glares at the Luigi's Mansion in his fingers (he fucking hated this game) and searches for the casing. He finds it under a Wal-Mart bag and places the disk inside. 

Ian walks over to Anthony when he hears the zipper do up. The older boy has the strap over his shoulder and a pillow in his hand. "You ready?" Anthony asks, already walking through door and turning his head towards the younger boy. 

"Yeah," Ian nods as he says his answer. His best friend nods back and they hobble down the stairs. 

Anthony doesn't say anything when they make their way outside or when they get into the car. Ian frowns at the odd atmosphere, but shrugs it off as he slides into shotgun.


End file.
